Piece by Piece
by Daestwen
Summary: After the Final Battle, Draco's memory is shattered. And he can't put it back together alone.


Title: Piece by Piece  
  
Disclaimer: In no way, shape, or form, does anything from Harry Potter belong to me. For that, you'll have to look to JK Rowling.  
  
Author's Note: This is about Draco, and is an AU fic assuming that Harry defeated the Dark Lord in the end (and lived) and that Draco did indeed become a death eater. This part has no slash in it, but I cannot guarantee that the rest of the series won't. But for the minute, you are safe. (I'll warn you before hand if any comes along, don't worry)  
  
~*~  
  
Chapter One: A Field of Ice and Blood  
  
*  
  
My eyes opened slowly. It wasn't quite dark, and wasn't quite light. Dawn, I supposed. How long had I been asleep? I sat up, and put a hand to my forehead. It hurt. That was odd, I couldn't remember hitting it. In fact, I couldn't remember falling asleep... And I didn't recognize where I was. I looked around. Snow, mostly, and a wide open plain. There were other people, but they were still... And the snow beneath them was turned black. No one moved.  
  
What had happened here?  
  
I racked my brain to remember, but... But I couldn't. I could remember some things... Like green eyes and blood and screaming, but otherwise... nothing. I couldn't even remember where I lived. Or --- what my name was. What was my name? It started with a D. Yes, a D. I remembered that much. But everything else...   
  
At least I could remember some things. Like the fact that it was very, very wrong that I could remember nothing. I sat in the snow trying to remember my name. I couldn't be completely lost... Things were coming in flashes. Pictures on my mind. But no words. And nothing substantial enough to give me a clue as to what I was doing here.   
  
Well, D, I thought to myself, We had better get moving. It's not like we can stay here. The people on the ground looked dead, and I didn't want to get any closer. So I stood up, and just walked. I remembered how. Just like I remembered how to speak, and think in language. But... everything else...  
  
I walked for a long time, though I didn't feel cold. I just walked - - passing the already decaying bodies on the ground. How long had they been lying there? How long had *I* been lying there? And why, for Merlin's sake why, were they all dead?  
  
I have no idea how long I walked, but finally I saw something move in the distance. A man, bending down over one person, then standing and walked to bend over another. He wasn't alone, as I saw as I walked forward. Several other people were doing the same thing. Walking and bending, walking and bending.  
  
I quickened my pace. They must have known what had happened here. What happened to me. Maybe they would even know who I was!  
  
"Wait!" I called out, but my voice was hoarse - my throat was much more dry than I had apparently predicted.   
  
However, the group must have sensed something, for they all stood up and watched as I ran forward. They started towards me, and brought their wands out. I didn't know how I knew they were wands, I just knew, and I knew that meant I was in trouble. The one I had seen first had been faster, and was approaching me with his wand outraised.  
  
"Don't move." He said, and I stopped. He approached a little cautiously.  
  
"Draco." He said, frowning. So *that* was my name... "I thought you died."  
  
"No, though thank you for your concern." I said, wondering exactly what this man knew of me. He wasn't very old, maybe 18 or 19, and it made me wonder how old I was. He had dark, unruly hair, and green eyes... Wait, those were the green eyes I remembered! He must know me!  
  
"You know!" I cried out, unable to restrain myself, "Your eyes! I remember them! You know!"  
  
His lanky body took a step backwards from me.   
  
"Stop playing games. How did you survive? Sit and wait for everyone else to die?" There was bitterness in his voice, but he was my only link. The only link to a past I knew nothing about, though was apparently still living in.  
  
"I don't know..." I said truthfully, "I just... woke up." I frowned. "Why, what's been going on here? Why are there so many bodies...."  
  
His eyebrows raised a little in suprise, and he lowered his wand slightly.  
  
"You aren't joking, are you?" He asked quietly.  
  
"Joking about what?" I asked, and waved a hand at the bodies, "I don't find this funny..."  
  
"You really don't remember."  
  
"Well, no, I remember some things. I remember that I'm human, and that what you're holding is a wand, and if I want to stay out of trouble I would do well to stay away from it. But... I've been walking for so long, and your eyes are one of the few things I remember. You said my name was Draco... You must know."  
  
"You remember my eyes?" The young man asked, a little bewildered.   
  
"Uh - yes. Sorry, but could you please at least tell me who you are...?"  
  
"Harry..." He said slowly. Then frowned again. "You really can't even remember my name? Your own name?"  
  
"I can now, as you already told me. It's Draco. And your name is Harry." I felt pleased with myself.  
  
The rest of the group was walking towards us, their wands lowered when they spotted that 'Harry' had done so. One man, in his thirties or forties by my guess, walked right up to us. He was dressed completely in black, and even his eyes and hair were the colour of coal. He glared at me with a shocking amount of ice.  
  
"I thought he died." He said. His voice was low and cutting, and reminded me of the damp smell of stones, though I couldn't for the life of me remember why.  
  
"Apparently he's still alive..." Harry replied, looking at the man in black. "He says he doesn't remember anything."  
  
"It's possible." The man grumbled.  
  
"I'm sorry, who are you?" Me, again, sounding dumb. I silently wished everyone would say their names before saying anything else.  
  
"Snape." He said, with a frown and a searching look.   
  
"Oh. Right. Odd name." I said. 'Snape' frowned even deeper, and shot a look at Harry.  
  
"What should we do with him?" Harry asked.   
  
"Can he even remember where he is?" Asked a young woman with bushy hair who had stepped forward. She and an older man were supporting a red-head who was apparently unconcious.  
  
"No." Harry replied, "Should we take him back with us?"  
  
"Do we have any other choice?" The bushy haired one asked, "He's the only surviving Death Eater."  
  
I frowned. "I didn't insult you, there's no reason to spout bad names at me."  
  
Everyone there gave me a look that clearly said: 'Shut up.'  
  
So I did.  
  
~*~ 


End file.
